


Math Homework and Lipgloss

by ellsmax



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:02:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27994977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellsmax/pseuds/ellsmax
Summary: Rory nearly fails math. Paris offers to tutor her. And is Paris wearing lipgloss?
Relationships: Paris Geller/Rory Gilmore
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	Math Homework and Lipgloss

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one setting at one in the morning. Also Paris is written as autistic and Rory has both autistic and having ADHD but I didn't tag it because it's not really mentioned apart from they both stim.

The bell signifying the end of class startles Rory out of a daydream. She starts and stares at her page, the past half an hour a blur. Her page was nearly blank, she had barely taken any notes.   
“Aw shit,” she mutters under her breath, springing out of her seat, gathering up sheets, overflowing binders, thick books and other assorted bits and pieces, stuffing them in her arms and pushing through a flow of students heading for the door. As she walks towards her locker, she walks straight into Paris, sending both of their possessions flying.

“Oh my god Paris I am so sorry!” she says, frantically grabbing flyers floating down on top of them, trying to clear up the mess. Paris gives her a quizzical look as she helps her up.  
“What’s gotten into you today?” she asks. “You’ve been late to pretty much every class, your face is redder than a tomato and the one class we don’t share you come out looking like a bomb exploded in there.”  
“Ugh I don’t know,” Rory groans, dragging a hand down her face. “I slept like hell, and then I got delayed on the way to school and Mom has some big event happening at the hotel and she’s been stressed for days. And I basically dreamed for the entire class and didn’t take any notes.” Paris pulls a face.   
“Where are you up to? I might have already covered it. I could teach you! If you want,” she says awkwardly.   
“Oh would you?” Rory says, relieved. “Paris you’re the best!” Her mood lifts slightly and she opens her textbook explaining how far she remembers, jabbering slightly. Paris raises an eyebrow.  
“Do you always talk this much when you’re tired?” she asks dryly, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.   
“Yup!” says Rory chirpily. “You get to a certain point of exhaustion where you go from grumpy tired to babbling insensibly tired. I’m somewhere on level four of the scale I’m guessing. It’s when the caffeine really kicks in.” She grins. “Am I still running on two hours sleep? Yes. Does it look like I’m about to fail math? Yup. Is my system too pumped with lattes to care? Definitely!” Paris smiles fully now, a bemused smile as she shakes her head and maybe it was the lack of sleep and excess coffee drinking, even for her, but a part of Rory thinks it’s kind of cute.  
“Ok then. I’ll come over to your’s after school, preferably after you’ve slept, and then we can go over the stuff.”   
“Sounds good,” Rory says, as they reach her locker. She starts stuffing unnecessary books in, furthering the disarray, and grabbing the thick textbooks for her next class. Paris waves a goodbye and turns, her blonde hair fanning out behind her. A blush creeps up Rory’s cheeks. Definitely the caffeine she thinks.

A loud rap at the door wakes Rory from a deep sleep. She raises her head blearily and stares at the clock on her dresser. It was past half five- she’d slept for a little over an hour. She flops back onto her soft pillow, another sharp knock jerking her properly awake. Paris was coming over.

“Aw shit,” she says, being hit with a vague sense of deja vu. She leaps out of bed, blessing the fact she just changed into pants and a jumper instead of pajamas and stares in the mirror at her hair. It’s sticking up in a thousand different directions and she rakes through it with her fingers, getting it to a somewhat presentable state. She runs to the door and pulls it open, Paris standing there as expected. She’s carrying an armful of books, clothes neat as ever, hair falling in a sheet behind her shoulders and her lips tinged slightly pink. 

“Are you wearing lipgloss?” Rory asks, before she can stop herself. Her insides turn over with regret. Paris blushes.  
“What? No! Why would you think that?” she says defensively.   
“I don’t know your lips just look pinker than usual, that’s all.”  
“Why are we talking about my appearance when you look like you’ve been dragged through a bush?” Paris says hurriedly. “At least it looks like you took my advice to nap.” Her voice comes off as less sharp than intended, a cute mix of indignant at the accusation and affection for the girl standing in the doorway.   
“Yeah I did,” Rory says tiredly. “I just completely blacked out. Sorry I left you at the door so long.” She smiles sheepishly. Paris’s blush spreads further.  
“Yeah, yeah it's fine. Now can we go in? It’s november, I’m about to freeze.”   
“Oh yeah ‘course!” says Rory, leaping to the side. “Do you want food? We have leftover Chinese if you want some.” She leads her into the kitchen, opening the fridge and peering inside. “We’ve some duck, curry and enough egg fried rice to feed an army.”  
“Um I’ll have duck and rice. Thank you,” Paris says, setting up at the kitchen table. Rory looks over her shoulder. Her heart sinks a little at the huge piles of notes being laid out for her.   
“Coming right up,” she says chirpily, determined to keep the mood from souring. Not that it did much with Paris these days anyway. They helped each other run the newspaper and walked to class together, sharing a glance of despair everytime Frances approached their lunch table. And that night at the bangles concert was one of the most fun times of her life. She shakes the rice onto a plate, putting it in the microwave and turning the dial. 

“Isn't there supposed to be some risk when microwaving rice?” Paris asks, looking up from her careful sorting.   
“Ah my friend, don’t you think I would have mastered the art of reheating leftovers by now,” Rory grins, taking the plate and placing it in front of her. Paris laughs.   
“When you put it that way.”  
“You want a drink?”   
“Do you have soda?” Paris asks. Rory turns and grabs two from the fridge, placing one in front of her. She cracks hers open with a satisfying hiss as Paris pushes a binder towards her. “See here? This is basically the crux of the math problem. Once you know how to do this you don’t really need the other stuff.” She leans her head close to Rory’s to point out some of the ways to work around the sum, the scent of her shampoo tickling Rory’s nose. It smells of apples and something sweet that she can’t quite place. Her heart begins to race and she flushes. “-So do you get that?” Paris asks, looking up. 

“Huh? I- sorry Paris I didn’t catch that. Still tired I suppose,” she says, trying to laugh it off.   
“We’ve been working for a while anyway, we can take a break,” Paris mutters, pushing her chair back. Rory clears her throat and rings her hands, rocking slightly in her chair. Paris looks up suddenly after a long silence.  
“Did you know Emily Dickinson was gay?” she says quietly. Rory looks up.  
“No I didn’t,” she replies evenly. “Where did you find that out?”  
“She had a “best friend” that she wrote romantic letters to. You should read up on it.” A heavy silence hangs in the air.   
“I will,” Rory says, looking at her friend. Paris turns to look at her. She rubs a strand of hair between her fingers, shuffling her feet.   
“Rory,” she asks tentatively. “What would you say if I told you I was gay?” Rory’s face breaks into a warm smile.   
“Nothing really,” she says softly. “I’d be here for you, help you if you ever needed it. Find you a great girlfriend if you want one. Maybe try find one for myself.” She murmurs the last part, her face burning. Paris’s head jerks up.   
“Really?” she asks. Rory nods. Paris leaps up from her chair and pulls her into a hug, burying her face in her soft red jumper. “Thank you,” she says, her voice muffled. Rory hugs back tightly. Paris pulls back after a short while and kisses Rory quickly, a quick press before pulling away, looking at her anxiously. Rory stares back, shocked.  
“You were wearing lipgloss,” she stutters, feeling slightly lightheaded.   
“Yeah,” Paris smiles awkwardly. “Was that ok?” Rory nods, clutching her wrist and smiling. She leaves one hand on her wrist and puts the other on her cheek, kissing her softly. Paris kisses her back and Rory decides math can wait.


End file.
